


Too-Blue Eyes

by Espoir



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: AU, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, This is so sappy, honestly, lifeguard AU, what has become of me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-29 04:15:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10846269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Espoir/pseuds/Espoir
Summary: Leonard is a long-suffering lifeguard, trying to pay his student loans with a summer job alongside his studies.Jim is the head surf instructor at the school attached to the station.Unsurprisingly, Jim is the main cause of Leonard's Suffering.(In which there is hand-holding, small lost children, beach barbecues, rip currents and lots and lots of slushies.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rhubarbgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhubarbgirl/gifts).



> WHERE DID THIS PAIRING COME FROM. WHERE I ASK.
> 
> rhubarbgirl entirely to blame for this and by blame i mean she sent me this message a propos of literally nothing:
> 
> "I've been sat on the beach for a few hours and would like to humbly request a Kirk/Bones Lifeguard AU pls"
> 
> And here we are. 7,500 words later.

Leonard McCoy resented a great many things. The girl in the Starbucks two blocks over from his apartment who had the detestable habit of picking her nose at the cash desk while his coffee was brewing. Humid, muggy days when he felt sticky and in need of a shower the entire day but knew that even if he did take one, he’d be feeling just as horrible five minutes later. Student loans, Christ almighty could he do without those. Having to take a full-time summer job alongside his courses in an attempt to minimise those fucking loans. 

Though, he had to concede, the summer job itself wasn’t so bad. There were worse ways to spend an afternoon than lounging on a chair in the sun and getting paid to do so. Being a lifeguard had its perks that way.

No, it was more an issue of the personnel at said-summer job. Nyota had warmed to him immediately, much to the frustration of the other lifeguards who tried desperately to gain her attentions, and Scotty was good fun too as long as you never, ever, ever challenged him to a drinking competition (spoiler: he always won, and he didn’t let you forget it.) Spock, the station manager, was odd but a bit endearing, Chekov, the announcer, was a good kid- 

No, they were all fine.

It was a certain Jim Kirk who was the issue.

Leonard resented him most of all. The cocky, devil-may-care head surf instructor at the school attached to the lifeguard station, who didn’t pay a damned bit of attention to the flags, or to Leonard’s rants about tides and rip currents, just laughed him off and sprinted into the sea to escape because he was an actual child. Kirk was a ridiculous, idiotic, half-witted, suicidal kid who spent far too much time turning Leonard’s hair grey and not enough fucking time doing his actual job.

Yeah, he was the issue.

But, even more pressingly, the real issue was that Leonard didn’t actually resent him at all.

God help him. 

 

______________________________________________

 

“Morning Bones! Beautiful weather we’re having this weekend, right?”

Leonard makes a noncommittal noise. 

“Gonna top up the tan today I feel.”

“It’s June. In California,” Leonard deadpans. 

“Still, there’s something about that fresh sea-air hitting your lungs, ocean breeze in your hair, sun on your skin, all that shit. Can’t beat it.”

“What are you now, a poet?”

Jim laughs (it wasn’t even a joke, Jim just takes any fucking excuse to laugh, he’s like that), “you know it. Anyway, brought you something.”

A slushy appears on Leonard’s desk next to his arm. It’s an offensive shade of purple. He eyes it suspiciously. 

“Jim, what the fuck is that.”

“It’s a morning pick-you-up! You’re too reliant on caffeine dude, you’re going to be no good to me or the school if your heart gives out because of withdrawal palpitations or whatever.”

“I’m going to be no good to you poisoned by the sheer number of e-numbers in that thing either. Also, do us both a favour and never call me ‘dude’ again.”

“I’m a surf instructor! It’s practically in the handbook. The kids think I’m cool.”

“Jim,” Leonard sighs, finally turning in his desk chair to survey him. Jim is standing in flip flops and board shorts and a tank top that was revealing more of his broad shoulders and chest than it was covering. He’s smiling, nose freckled and a little pink from too much sun. Occupational hazard.

“You could never be cool,” Leonard says emphatically, which is the biggest fucking lie in existence, and gets to his feet. “Don’t have you better things to do than pissing me off anyway? When are your classes?”

“Start at midday today - here”, and the purple monstrosity was pushed into Leonard’s hand.

Leonard glares at him. 

Jim smiles sweetly. “Stay hydrated Bones, it’s warm out today.”

“Mother of god,” Leonard mutters, and takes the damn slushy. 

______________________________________________

 

Leonard was in his penultimate year of residency at UCSF Medical Centre. Paediatric neurosurgery had been no walk in the park, and about a million people had tried to warn him off it when he’d signed up. But Leonard was nothing if not stubborn, and people telling him he’d never make it had been one of the key driving forces his entire life. 

His mother telling him it was okay if he dropped math, he’d never pass the class, and that was alright, he didn’t need to do medicine anyway.

His first girlfriend telling him he’d never make it out of Georgia.

His sophomore supervisor advising him that research would be a better avenue; “you’re a helluva scientist McCoy, but your bedside manner isn’t going to get you far as a doctor.”

No. He’d been told the neurosurgery residency would kill him, and it hadn’t. He was still here, still breathing, still eating takeaway at 2am while trying to catch up on reading, still hauling his ass out of bed for a 4km jog because that was all he could manage without collapsing from exhaustion, still drinking at Joes, sitting on his own at the bar, two fingers of whisky on a Friday night to celebrate making it through another week-

Okay, when he thought about it like that, the life he was currently living wasn’t much of a life, but still. He had a routine. He worked, it worked.

He had enough to get by. 

______________________________________________

Leonard hates it when Jim’s right (the kid is always right) but it really is a beautiful day. Not a single cloud in the sky, just endless blue stretching out till it hit the horizon. The sun is high over their heads and Leonard slathers on another layer of sun-cream on his nose. Jim may tan like he was born on a tropical island, but some people actually took precautions surrounding things like skin cancer.

“Afternoon Bones! Need a hand with that?” comes a voice from the bottom of his chair. 

Leonard peers down. Jim, because who else would it fucking be, is standing at the base of the chair, surfboard under one arm. He’s flanked by half a dozen or so nervous looking pre-teens, clutching yellow training boards. 

“With what?” 

“I see you’re having a bit of a sun-cream situation up there,” Jim leers, “I’d be all too happy to help out.” The girl next to him titters with anxious laughter.

“Children Jim, there are children present,” Leonard growls.

Jim positively beams. “Class, meet the soon-to-be-Doctor-McCoy, aka our very own Bones. He’s our chief lifeguard, so you’re in extra safe hands having your first lesson today. Chances are you won’t see much of him, which is a good thing, but it’s always an idea to try and get in his good books. You’ve got to work at it, but it is possible, believe me - I’ve just about managed it.”

“In your dreams,” Leonard says darkly, and some of the kids laugh, properly this time.

“See? I told you he was a charmer. See you later dude!”

Leonard scowls as best he can at Jim’s retreating form, but Jim is too busy animating the nervous girl in conversation as he leads the class down to the water.

It’s a quiet day at the beach, which really, is Leonard’s favourite kind of day. There’s a few families with very young kids playing in the sand, and a couple of teenagers stretched out on towels playing on their phones. He turns his attention to the water; a few swimmers, most of whom he already recognises. There’s a couple of retired ladies who always make an effort to come for a Sunday afternoon swim, they’re sensible about it though, never going out too far. A little boy and his Dad are waist deep out in the waves, but the Dad looks like he knows what he’s doing, always making sure to haul his son over the bigger breakers.

Beyond them, the pacific stretches out before him, as far as he can see, the small waves smoothing out into rolling ocean, the colour shifting from a sky-mirroring blue to a deeper, solid green.

Leonard shudders lightly and looks away.

Down by the water, Jim’s class is underway. From this distance, Leonard can’t hear him, but he doesn’t feel like he needs to. Jim communicates with his entire body, demonstrating and waving his hands around in the air, tripping over his own board cord and making the nervous girl laugh. He’s in his element here, facing a captive audience, and he moves amongst the kids, adjusting their stances, bending their knees, changing their grip. Leonard can almost see the last of the tension leave the group; Jim’s good humour is just infectious like that. He’s ridiculous.

Almost as if he can hear Leonard’s musings, Jim circles round to the front of the group and his own board and then, dramatically, drops from standing to lying flat on his stomach on the board. It’s not an elegant move, but the laughter that Leonard can hear from the kids even from here suggests it’s well received. Jim rolls off a little bit, clutching his chest in mock pain, and twisting his neck back a little like-

Like he’s looking right at Leonard. 

Fuck’s sake.

Leonard feels himself flush (why, goddamnit, why universe, he does not have space in his life for obnoxious 23-year-olds with dirty blond hair and too-wide smiles) and absolutely does not smile. 

______________________________________________

“So, then I told her, ‘well, if this is going to be a problem for you, then I think we may have an even bigger problem’.” Nyota says pausing to blow on her nails. She’s gone for a serene magenta today. The pause lasts too long for Leonard’s liking.

“And?” He prompts.

“And, then she said, ‘and what would that be then?’ and honestly, the tone was enough McCoy, really, it just brought up all this bad feeling about how patronising she’s been these past couple of weeks and how I just don’t have time for that shit - I deserve more than that, you know?”

“The point Nyota, get to it.”

“So I said, ‘that problem being that I’m leaving. Right now.’ And then I got up and left. Right in the middle of dessert. And it was a fucking sublime pavlova I was abandoning too.” 

Leonard gasps. “You didn’t.”

“I absolutely fucking did.”

“You did what?”

Jim has appeared at the deck table, a towel wrapped around his shoulders, still salty damp from the sea. He shakes his hair violently and sprinkles Leonard’s Sudoku with a fine spray of droplets. 

“What are you Jim, a dog?”

“Hey, I want to be updated on the gossip. You guys always seem to have these deep catch up sessions when I’m not around, I feel left out.”

“Maybe that’s intentional,” Nyota says primly, inspecting her nails.

Jim looks hurt, and though Leonard was 99% sure it was for melodramatic effect, Leonard was also weak.

“Nyota was updating me on her girlfriend. Or rather, her ex-girlfriend.”

It’s Jim’s turn to gasp. “You guys broke up?! But you were talking about engagement! That all fell through? You seemed so into Gallia, what did she do? Do I need to go beat her up? Or someone else up?”

Christ, Jim is an even bigger gossip than Leonard, and honestly, that was saying something.

“Oh, I’ve just remembered Spock wanted to see me about the jet-ski maintenance,” Nyota says breezily, “have a good shift,” and she hopped over the deck railing.

Jim scowls after her. “Why do I get the feeling she’s never going to like me?”

Leonard chuckles. “Because you made the mistake of hitting on her non-stop for the first week you were here, and Nyota doesn’t forgive and forget. A lesson Gallia has just learnt to her peril. Don’t take it personally, I have no idea why she likes me if it’s any consolation.”

“Everyone likes you, Bones.”

Leonard raises an eyebrow. “I doubt that, I’m the grumpy, old bastard over here.”

“For the millionth time Bones, you’re not that old, this age insecurity thing is getting ridiculous – and while yes, you are the grumpiest person to ever work full-time on a beach in the history of existence, it’s kinda part of your charm at this point.”

Jim sighs, and slumps down in the deck chair Nyota had vacated. It was barely 9am and he’d already been for a morning swim. 

“Surf’s great this morning, it’ll be a good challenge for the intermediates this afternoon.” 

Leonard flips over a clean mug and pours a fresh coffee, shunting it across the table to Jim.

“Yeah, so the rips are gonna be twice as strong. Don’t let anyone drift out, you hear me? I’m quite happy not getting wet today.”

Jim takes the coffee gratefully, and smiled at Leonard over the rim. 

“Bonsey, do you really need to tell me that? Honestly though, the water’s lovely. You shoulda come for a swim.”

A swim. Out in the deep water. With just Jim. Because there was a recipe for disaster if he’d ever heard one.

“I think I’ll pass, it’s not good to swim on an empty stomach and you know how I feel about breakfast.”

“It’s not good to swim on a full one either,” Jim says cheerily, but something about his tone rings a little hollow.

“See? You are listening to what I’m saying, there is hope for you.”

Jim smiles, and looks out to sea. “I’m always listening Bones,” and he takes his coffee and heads off the deck.

Leonard is left alone on the deck, with his cooling coffee and the weight of whatever-the-fuck Jim meant by that last comment hanging in the air.

______________________________________________

 

It’s a gorgeous bank holiday, so typically, the beach is heaving. Leonard has already scooped two children out of breakers that were breaking just a bit too violently, and lectured a group of teenage boys on how the sign that says ‘Absolutely No Inflatables in the Sea’ really does fucking mean it, and it’s not even 11am yet. It’s going to be helluva long shift, and with Nyota taking the day off, it all falls on him. 

He’s just sat back down, reaching for his water bottle because he’s been that busy he hasn’t even had time for a drink and his mouth feels like the fucking Sahara, when a little girl appears at the bottom of his ladder. 

She’s young, probably not much older than 5 or 6, and the pigtails are not making her look any older. The fact she’s apparently alone does not bode well. 

Leonard leans down. “You alright there kid? Anything I can help you with?”

It appears to be the wrong thing to say, because the girl promptly bursts into tears. 

“Oh Christ,” and Leonard clambers down from his seat. He crouches down next to her, using her armbands to gently peel her hands away from her face.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry sweetheart, lemme guess. You’ve lost your parents?” 

The girl sniffs, her bottom lip quivers warningly. “My brother. He’s meant to be looking afta me. But I went to the water to collect shells and I came back and there’s just lotsa towels and I don’t know where – I don’t know –“ she gets cut off, hiccupping on fresh sobs.

Leonard decides it’s time to call this in. “McCoy to Chekov,” he says into his radio, “I’ve got a lost little girl here, about 5 years old, I’m bringing her up to the station. Someone needs to cover me.” Chekov’s affirmation crackles through, but the out-loud confirmation that she truly is lost seems to have sent the girl into near-hysterics. 

“Okay, okay,” Leonard soothes, “alright, let’s head up to the station and use the big loud speaker to find your brother, yeah? Its like, really, really loud, we’ll find him, no worries.”

The girl is inconsolable, sobbing so violently now that people in the camps nearby are glancing over, concerned gazes questioning whether Leonard’s doing his damn job.

Which he is, okay. He’s in paediatrics. He knows kids. 

“Hey,” he says, gently, “first off, how about you tell me your name?”

The girl hiccups again, and looks at him warily. “Daisy,” she says.

Leonard smiles. “Well hi there Daisy, lovely to make your acquaintance. I’m the lifeguard for this beach, but you can call me Bones.”

That’s not his name, and he doesn’t quite know why he says it, but it’s too late.

“Bones? Like, a skeleton bones?”

“You got it. I’m training to be a doctor you see. It’s my job to know all the bones in the body.”

“All of them?” Now she sounds sceptical. Leonard is almost offended.

“Yeah kid, you bet all of them. C’mon, I’ll list them for you on our walk to the station.” 

“M’kay,” Daisy agrees.

Leonard goes to stand up, but as he does so, he realises Daisy’s put her arms out in front of her, reaching for him – 

Aw hell.

Which is how Jim comes across him, tromping between beach camps with a little girl on his hip, carefully pointing out the difference between her metacarpal and metatarsal on her hands and feet. 

“Bones!” Jim calls, “I thought kids were my thing?”

Leonard looks up, Jim is leaning against the station entrance and staring at Leonard with something akin to wonder.

“This is Daisy, she’s got a little lost. We’re helping her find her brother.” 

“And this is Bones,” Daisy says, “and he’s teaching me about all the bones. All of them.” She’d cheered considerably in their walk over here. 

Jim grins. “Well, he really does know all of them, so he’s the right person to talk to. What’s your brother’s name Daisy?”

“Andy, and he’s with his friend Joe.”

“Andy it is,” and Jim leans round the doorway to relay the information to Chekov.

Leonard sets Daisy down on the decking and pats the deckchair, getting her to sit down. It’s at that point he notices the trickle of blood on her ankle. Fuck, how had he not noticed that? Some doctor he was. 

He gingerly lifted up her foot, “hey Daisy, what’s this?” 

“I fell over a spade. I didn’t know it bleeded,” Daisy says matter-of-factly, and she leans over, inspecting the wound. 

She looks up suddenly, fearful.

“Did it hurt the bone?”

Leonard smiles. “No kiddo, no bones hurt. But I’ll get you a Band-Aid for that. Sit tight, my friend Jim will stay with you while I grab the med-kit. Jim?” he calls, and Jim’s there in a second, a small slushy in hand.

“Stay with Daisy a sec will you, I’m gonna grab a Band-Aid for her ankle.”

“Oh Daisy,” Jim says, “you have had a tough day today haven’t you? Well, hopefully this will help,” and he presents the slushy with a flourish before settling down next to her.

When Leonard returns, it’s to a heated debate on whether pink slushies taste better than blue slushies. 

“But they don’t taste blue,” Daisy is insisting, like Jim is missing a significant point here. “The pink ones taste pink.”

“She’s got a point Jim,” Leonard says, opening the med-kit on the table and riffling through the Band-Aid selection. “Strawberry always wins.”

“They always run out of strawberry, you have to have a back-up!”

“Then you have ice cream,” Daisy says, gently, as though Jim is very, very slow.

Leonard scoffs, trying to bite back his grin, “ice cream trumps all slushies, it’s true.”

Jim sighs melodramatically. “I’m feeling very ganged up on here.” 

Daisy giggles, and sucks on the slushy. On the loudspeaker, Chekov again requests for Andy and Joe to come up to the lifeguard station. 

Leonard presents three types of Band-Aids for Daisy’s inspection. She surveys them intently, and points to the one decorated in soccer balls. 

“A good choice,” Leonard commends, and opens an antiseptic wipe packet to clear up the cut first.

Jim has gone quiet, and Leonard is acutely aware all of a sudden of how fucking close he is. They’re both on the decking, Leonard crouched by Daisy’s feet, Jim right by her chair, and god, he can feel Jim watching him as he swabs the little cut gently, shhing Daisy when she makes an unhappy noise at the sting.

“You’re doing great Daisy, nearly done sweetheart.”

The Band-Aid goes on. Leonard glances to his side and meets Jim’s gaze. He’s looking at Leonard with a mixture of curiosity, awe, and inexplicably, fondness. He smiles and leans forward, nudging Leonard’s shoulder with his.

Leonard feels his face heat rapidly, throat going dry and fuck, he’s 20-fucking-8 for christ’s sake, he should not be letting some kid with messy blond hair and too blue eyes be getting under his skin like this, but lord above-

Leonard swallows, pointedly, and looks back up at Daisy-

Whose entire face has lit up with joy.

“Andy!” she screams, and that’s about all the warning Leonard gets before he’s being pushed aside by a failing 5 year old sprinting into her brother’s arms.

Jim is on his feet, and offers Leonard a hand up. Which he takes, because it’d be rude not to.

Andy looks to be a little younger than Jim, maybe just 20, and has bodily picked Daisy up, clutching her tightly and obviously trying not to cry.

“Oh my God, Daisy, where were you I was looking everywhere-“

“I went to see the shells! And I got lost but then Bones found me and brought me here and gave me a Band-Aid and a slushy and-“

“Bones?” Andy pulls back a little, looking confused. He tucks his sister’s hair behind her ear, hand feeling the side of her head as though checking for a bump. “You sure?”

“Yes, she’s sure. I’m Bones, or rather, Leonard,” Leonard says, somewhat sheepishly, aware of the knowing look Jim is giving him and stubbornly ignoring it. “I’m the lifeguard down on the beach. Daisy did absolutely the right thing coming to find me. She’s been very brave.”

Daisy preens a little bit under the praise, and Andy looks almost faint with relief.

“Thank you, oh god thank you, I can’t tell you how much-“

Leonard waves him quiet. “Seriously, don’t worry. It’s my job. I’m glad I could help. It’s a busy day out today, worth making sure you’re keeping an eye on things.” And if a slight edge of sternness creeps into his tone, well. Daisy is 5. That meant constant supervision.

Andy evidently picks up on it, and visibly cringes. “God yes, I know, never again, fuck-“

“Andy!” Daisy scolds, “mom said not to!”

Andy laughs, and squeezed her a little tighter. “I’m sorry, you’re right, I’m sorry.”

He sets her down, holding her hand. When he looks back up at Leonard again, something is… different about his expression. 

He smiles, a little shyly this time. “Honestly, I can never thank you enough.” Andy’s gaze slips briefly downwards and Leonard feels about 40 different shades of uncomfortable as he realises he’s being checked out – “if there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, anything at all –“

“Don’t forget your slushy Daisy!” Jim says cheerily, interrupting the surreal moment Leonard had found himself in and leaning down to present the cup to her. “Next time, I promise I’ll get you strawberry.”

Andy coughs self-consciously, “here’s hoping there won’t be a next time,” and he turns to lead Daisy away. “Thanks again guys,” he calls, but the look he shoots back over his shoulder is only directed at Leonard.

“Fucking hell,” Leonard breathes as soon as they are out of earshot. 

“Sorry,” Jim says, not sounding sorry at all, “I got the feeling you weren’t exactly feeling the come-on.”

Leonard runs a hand roughly over his face. “Christ, he’s a barely older than an infant himself.”

Jim laughs, “yeah well, you’d just saved his sister and, well, you know, you can’t blame him.”

“Can’t I? I don’t get it Jim, really I don’t.”

Leonard turned to pack up his med-kit and not realising Jim hadn’t moved an inch until he stood up. Jim was staring at him, looking oddly concerned.

“What is it?”

“You don’t get it? Bones, c’mon, you’re fucking gorgeous. You really can’t blame him.” 

Leonard feels his entire body heat, and looks down to fiddle with the med-kit.

“Can it, Jim.”

“No! Seriously, you’ve got to realise this? I mean, the whole lifeguard thing and your apparently charming ways with small children which, hello, why wasn’t I aware of this, aside – you’ve got to be prepared for people flirting with you, Bones! You’re a god, man, you’re a vision -”

“No Jim, that’s you.” 

It’s out of his mouth before he even has time to think about it. Fuck. Fuck.

Jim stares at him like he’s just spontaneously grown a second-head. 

Leonard rolls his eyes to cover the rising panic he’s feeling in his chest.

“And I hope you enjoyed that, because that’s all you’re getting. Now, if you excuse me, I’ve got a shift to get back to.”

He’d nearly made it, nearly gotten out of earshot when Jim shouts at him from the deck.

“Love you too Bones!”

Leonard grins, glad his back is to the hut, and shakes his head in disbelief. What a fucking pair they make.

As it is, he flips Jim off in lieu of a reply.

He can just about hear Jim’s laugh, and it warms him more the Californian sun ever could, goddamnit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY HOW MUSHY IS THIS FOR REALS THOUGH
> 
> (have a lovely weekend folks <3)

Things are… different after the Daisy Incident.

Jim still smiles at Leonard like he’d brought the sun in with him when he arrived in the morning, and Leonard still made coffee for two without really thinking too much about it. Except –

Except Jim didn’t make any effort to avoid brushing shoulders with Leonard in the locker room anymore. And there was a goddamned fluorescent slushy on his desk every morning now. And most worryingly of all, Leonard increasingly found that when he was meant to be watching the civilians in the ocean risking their damn _lives_ , he was watching Jim instead, far far out to sea, catching the stupidly huge waves the other surfers rose over, pushing himself to his feet on his board with a gravity-defying ease, whipping the board up through the cresting water, hugging the wave as it broke over his head.

Leonard’s heart always skipped a beat when Jim went under. It was inevitable, with surfing, that the wave would run out eventually. But that didn’t stop him holding his breath until he saw Jim’s head bob to the surface again after wiping out.

The whole thing was weird, and getting weirder, which of course, was when the fucking staff beach BBQ had to happen.

For a start, someone put Scotty in charge of drinks, which was a terrible, terrible idea. 

“You know, I won’t lie, it’s pretty nice having company for a change,” Leonard admits, squinting into the giant bonfire Nyota had spent the better part of the afternoon constructing. Were they even allowed bonfires on the beach? He’s fairly sure that went against some major state health and safety laws. 

“How’d you mean Bonesy?”

Jim had been doing just fine on beer before Chekov whipped him up a homemade cocktail with what must have been absinthe. Now Jim was loose-limbed and goofy smiles and apparently very, very, drunk.

Leonard rolls his eyes. “As if one nickname wasn’t bad enough, lord help me.”

Jim laughs, throwing his head back, and honestly, no one has ever found Leonard this funny before, _no one_ , he didn’t even know he could _be_ funny.

“I mean, most Fridays it’s just me at the bar. S’good to be with friends.”

Jim goes serious all of a sudden, blue eyes widening. “Bones, _Bones._ Tragic details of your life aside, did you just admit that we’re… friends?”

He mock-whispers it like it’s some dirty secret, and there’s a smile playing at the corners of his mouth and Leonard resents him, resents him impossibly.

“Maybe,” Leonard gives him, because he’s feeling generous, and Jim crows like he won the fucking lottery. 

Nyota appears at Leonard’s side, looking amused. “McCoy, good to see you’re not influencing the infant. Are you even old enough to drink Jim?”

Jim looks enormously offended, “I think you’ll find –“ 

Leonard cuts him off. “He’s alright. Just gettin’ rowdy. I’ll get him to walk it off,” and with a long-suffering smile to Nyota, he takes Jim’s elbow and steers him away from the BBQ.

They walk for a while, cooling sand beneath bare toes, until they can no longer feel the heat from the bonfire on their backs. The beach is empty – it’s 11:30pm on a Wednesday, of course it is – and without really noticing it Leonard realises Jim is leading them down to the water’s edge. There’s an enormous log of driftwood that had been blown up in the last storm and it’s become a popular playground for the kids, who seem to love climbing over it and jumping off into the waves. 

Jim plonks himself down on the log, and looks out to the sea with a melodramatic sigh. 

Leonard smiles, and sits himself next to him, holding his beer bottle loosely between his knees.

How did he get here, he wonders, how did Jim Kirk weasel his way into his life like this.

“Tell me something you haven’t told anyone else before,” Jim says suddenly.

Leonard looks at him, momentarily confused, but Jim seems to be entirely serious. He’s squinting out at the horizon, the slivers of moonlight glancing off the waves reflecting in his eyes. His fucking eyes. Leonard has never met anyone with eyes like Jim’s.

He coughs and looks away.

A multitude of answers skim his mind, each more ridiculous than the last, all engineered to try and get Jim to laugh, let’s be real here, because Leonard is _gone_ for this guy sitting right next to him, but in the end he decides to be… honest. He looks out to sea, at the dark, rolling waves.

“I uh, I actually don’t like the ocean much. In fact, it freaks me the hell out. The shallow stuff is okay, but further out, when you can’t see the bottom, yeah, not so much. I mean, I’ll go out there if I have to of course, but it don’t mean I’ll enjoy it.” 

He can feel Jim turn to stare at him.

“Bones,” Jim says, something like delight creeping into his voice, “Bones, I don’t know whether it’s escaped your attention, but you’re a lifeguard. You work on a beach. Next to an ocean. Every day.”

Leonard feels his hackles going up. This hadn’t been an answer designed for Jim’s amusement.

“Yeah I’m well aware of that thank you very much. Doesn’t change anything.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Jim bursts into laughter.

It shouldn’t, it _shouldn’t_ goddammit, but it hurts. Leonard feels his stomach lurch, and he gets to his feet instinctively, makes to set off back down the beach.

“Hey, Bones no, I’m sorry-” Jim is saying. 

“It wasn’t a joke Jim,” he snipes, “it’s fucking stupid I know, but it wasn’t a joke!”

There’s a warm calloused hand on his shoulder, and Leonard turns, still angry.

Jim’s face is completely serious, and hell, how much had the kid drunk again? Because he seemed cold stone sober right about now.

“I’m sorry, I had no right to laugh. That wasn’t fair of me.”

“You had right enough,” Leonard mutters and looks down, wanting to avoid eye contact. “Lifeguarding pays well, and I didn’t really realise how much it freaked me out before I started the job. It’s dumb as hell, believe me, I’m well aware of that.”

“Shit Bones, why don’t you quit?”

There's a pause. A pause that is too fucking long and makes it all too clear Leonard can't think up a decent lie to that.

“Fuck,” he says instead, and sits back down on the log, hard.

Jim, thank god, doesn’t say anything to that. He just sits back down next to him.

They descend into an uneasy quiet, but Leonard can feel Jim wants to say something, it’s simmering in the air around him, a tangible tension - 

“This fall, I’m gonna enlist,” Jim says, too quickly like he doesn’t want to think about what he’s saying.

Leonard’s entire body goes cold and he turns to stare at him but Jim’s eyes are fixed on the horizon, jaw tight.

“Enlist in what,” he says, and fuck, he already knows the answer.

“The marines.”

And Jim had laughed at his confession. It’s the single most insane thing Leonard has ever heard.

“Are you outta ya _cornfed mind_ Kirk? Enlist, my ass - like fuck you are Jim, you’re just a fucking _kid-”_

 Jim laughs and it’s an ugly sound. “You and the age thing Bones, Jesus - I’m not, okay? I know you like to think of me like that, but I’m not a kid. No-one wants surfing lessons come October and I don’t want to go back to bartending, so I’m broadening my options.”

“By going to fucking _Afghanistan?_ ”

“Iraq. Actually.”

Leonard could hit him. Hippocratic oath be _damned,_ he could hit Jim so hard right about now and have zero regrets about it.

“Jim _no_ , you’re a damn fool, that’s the most fucking stupid thing that’s ever come out of your goddamned mouth, and I’ve been around for a whole lotta stupid. You don’t just _join the army_ because you’re out of a summer job, fuck, you go to the job centre and get a normal, 9-5” ( _safe,_ a voice in Leonard’s head whispers), “job like every other sucker out there, a job that doesn’t get you _shot at._ Goddammit, won’t you have family missing you? A girlfriend? Boyfriend? Fuck you can’t just _leave_ \- _”_

God, the thought of Jim, _his Jim,_ this bright, sharp, wicked-quick young man with his too-blue eyes and his too-knowing smile in fucking khaki in some desert in the middle of nowhere with a gun in those capable hands that are used to adjusting children’s grips on surfboards and slapping Bones on the back and hi-fiving Chekov and stealing Nyota’s pen to finish the Sudoku in half-the-fucking-time it takes the rest of them combined because he’s a goddamned genius behind all that bravado –

_No._

But Jim is talking again.

“I’ve actually been thinking about it for a while now Bones, this isn’t a spur of the moment thing. And no, no one will miss me, trust me,” Jim says quietly, and yeah, that ‘Jim is off his face thing’ earlier was an act pure as day, because Jim is so sober right now. 

“Damn it man, _I’d_ miss you.” 

Well fuck.

Jim looks genuinely shocked, which hurts more than it should.

“Wow, I can’t believe I made you say that,” he says, warily. 

Leonard makes a strangled sound of frustration.

“You didn’t _make me_ say anything you goddamned fucking-“ and then, because he really doesn’t trust himself to say anything productive at this point, he’s that _mad_ , he reaches up to take hold of the side of Jim’s face and is kissing him before he has chance to think twice about it.

Jim tastes sea-salty and warm and a little bit like wood-smoke and it takes him a worryingly short time to respond to the kiss.

Leonard runs his free hand through Jim’s hair, tugging on it as he goes, and Jim goes pliant, back arching beneath him and, well. This got very non-PG pretty damn fast. 

Leonard pulls away to catch a breath and Jim is staring at him like he’s from another planet, eyes wide, mouth parted. 

He’s the most ridiculously gorgeous thing Leonard has ever seen.

“Don’t go,” Leonard says, fiercely, or at least, he tries to, but he thinks the quaver in his voice gives him away a little. “Bartending sucks but there’s other options. Please Jim.”

Jim is nodding, a disbelieving smile twitching at the corner of his mouth, “okay Bones, okay. I’ll stay.”

 

* * *

 

  

It’s the second to last day of the season. 

Of course it is. 

The weather is, to put it bluntly, pretty crappy. There’s a chill in the air and Leonard’s bundled up in his hoodie on the lifeguard chair. There’s two dogged retirees out in wetsuits putting in their Sunday swim, but the water is empty aside from them. The beach has a few dog walkers but nobody else; the sky is ominously dark, threatening rain.

“Current looking okay?” Jim says from the bottom of the ladder.

“What do you think, Jim,” Leonard says darkly, “take one wild guess.”

Jim laughs, and starts climbing the steps up to Leonard’s seat.

“Jim, there’s definitely not enough room up here for your – “

Jim stops on the third rung and presents a steaming cup of coffee, wafting it in front of Leonard’s face before pushing it into his free hand.

“Oh,” says Leonard.

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” says Jim, and he’s grinning, that insufferably sunny grin no matter what the weather’s doing, and he leans in to press a quick kiss to Leonard’s forehead. 

God Leonard’s done for.

“You know what I’m going to say,” he says, attempting stern but pretty sure he’s missing it by a country-mile.

“Be careful today? Yes sir, always am. Second to last class of the season Bones, you can do it.”

“I don’t give a fuck about you, I’m talking about the civilians. If you think I’m going in today when the water’s that colour you’ve got another thing coming.”

Jim laughs. “Don’t worry, I promise you won’t even have to get your pinky toe wet today Bones. I’ll see you later, right?”

There’s that look of slight caution in his eyes that even after nearly a month Leonard hasn’t managed to entirely assuage. Like he’s half-expecting Leonard to suddenly drop their plans and ditch him.

Leonard shakes his head in despair and leans in to press his lips gently to the side of Jim’s mouth.

“Yeah Jim, I’ll see you later.”

Jim shivers lightly, face brightening. “You know, I wouldn’t have pegged you for a romantic Bones, but I’m continually thrilled as you prove me wrong on that front.”

Leonard scoffs. “You know me, Mr. Sentimental.”

Jim beams, and jumps off the ladder. He smiles at Leonard one last time, like he can’t quite get enough of it, and then turns to head back to the station. His class starts in 15, and Jim is never late for classes.

15 minutes it may be, but Leonard swears the sky visibly darkens in that time. The water is getting choppier, not dangerously so, not yet, but the wind is picking up, cresting the waves in foaming white.

Outback, past the breakers, Leonard can see the snaking stretch of the rip current dragging out to sea.

Jim’s class is an adult one, and there’s only 4 of them. Jim goes through the motions of explaining stance and grip just like he does with the kids, only without the amateur dramatics. Nonetheless, Leonard can tell he gets a few laughs out of the group, can see Jim’s toothy grin from his chair.

They’re not going to go out far, not with a beginners group and definitely not in this weather, and for the first 20 minutes or so, it all seems to be going fine. So fine in fact, that Leonard gets distracted by a dog playing Frisbee with its owner a little further off down the beach.

And then, abruptly, it’s anything but fine.

Leonard’s radio crackles into life at his hip.

“Uhuru to McCoy, we think Jim’s in trouble.”

Leonard is out of the chair and sprinting down the beach without a second’s hesitation, eyes scanning the horizon. There’s two adults from the class wading into shore through the breakers, both looking out to sea apprehensively behind them but neither of them are Jim and _where the fuck is he-_

“He’s been pulled out by the current. The other two civs are with him, take the jet ski, we’ll get the boat prepped as a back-up,” Nyota fills him in.

“How far out are they?” Leonard radios back, hitting the water with a splash. The jet ski is right there. _Hold on Jim, hold the fuck on._

“Not too far, but shit – it’s a strong rip Leonard. Be careful, Pike’s called it, we’re sending the boat out, don’t get sucked in yourself.”

Ignoring the fact Nyota never _ever_ calls him by his first name and definitely ignoring the implications of what that means, Leonard holsters the radio and flicks the handlebar switch on the ski. The machine roars into life, and in the next second he’s skimming through the breakers, cold ocean spray stinging his legs and face.

Nyota was right, they’re not far out, but it’s not looking good either. One of the students is pushing 50 and he looks deathly pale, clutching onto his board. The other woman must have lost hers because she’s clinging onto Jim’s orange board. Jim, fucking _Jim_ , is treading water.

He’s a strong swimmer, hell, the strongest swimmer out of the lot of them, but even he’s struggling to keep his head above water.

“Thank Christ,” Jim shouts above the wind, laughing, the idiot, even as he inhales water, “take them Bones, get them the hell out of here.” 

“And leave you, you goddamned moron?” Leonard shouts back, even as he’s pulling the man onto the back of the ski. 

It’s then he realises Jim’s point. There’s not enough room on the ski. Hell, three is going to be a squeeze. Four just isn’t happening.

_Fuck._

Leonard reaches a hand down for the woman, hauling her bodily onto the ski. “Hold on to me, okay?” he shouts over his shoulder, and she nods, teeth chattering with cold.

In the time it’s taken to get them both on, Jim has been dragged several metres away. At least now he’s got a fucking board to hold onto.

“I’ll be right here, go!” Jim hollers, and Leonard feels his heart break because this kid, this _goddamned kid._

“You better fucking be!” he yells back, and throws Jim the lifejacket he has on board for his own use. The wind carries it a foot off target, but Jim leans and snatches it up.

It doesn’t take much time to get back to the shore to drop off the civilians, but it’s still too fucking long. 

It’s a hell of a lot longer trip back out to Jim. He’s been pulled out that much further.

Leonard’s honestly barely breathing until he sees him, _finally_ , a rag doll between the waves and then he can’t stop. Fuck, he’s going to be no good to anyone hyperventilating, least of all Jim.

Jim’s half-draped on his board, life-jacket on. He doesn’t look up as Leonard pulls the ski round.

He comes as close as he dares with the waves shoving the jet-ski unpredictably.

“Jim, come on!” he calls, and he reaches down, leaning out over the dark frothing water. Leonard doesn’t want to think about how deep it is all the way out here, right beneath them now, but he doesn’t have time to.

Jim looks fucking exhausted, and it takes him a good three goes before his fingers meet Leonard’s, cold and slippery wet in his.

Leonard pulls him with all his weight and Jim flops inelegantly onto the back of the ski.

Fuck, Leonard doesn’t even know if he’s breathing.

The back of a jet-ski in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a goddamned _storm_ is no time for first aid, but Leonard doesn’t have a choice, and he’s frantic, trying to turn Jim over, Jim who is far too heavy and far, _far_ too cold-

“I am not doing fucking mouth to mouth resuscitation on you Jim, so help me god-“

“Bones,” Jim says, coughing weakly, “m’fine. It’s okay.”

Leonard hauls him up until Jim is sitting instead of lying prone, and then, in a maneuverer he had resolutely refused to perform before because he was that shit-scared of falling in, he stands on the edge of the ski, takes a step and then straddles it again behind Jim. He shoves his arms under Jim’s reaching for the handles, and kick-starts the ski again.

“Bones, what-“

“You’re freezing Jim, forgive me for trying to alleviate the hypothermia you’ve got setting in here.” 

Jim is shivering in the circle of Leonard’s arms, and he leans back into him.

“Should call you Bond ‘stead of Bones,” he mumbles, “some badass shit Bones,” and Leonard laughs, almost hysterically. He can see the shore again, they’re nearly there.

“Whatever you want Jim, whatever you want to call me you can,” and he presses a rough kiss against Jim’s neck because it’s the nearest convenient body part. Fuck, he’ll feel a hell of a lot better when they’ve got him warm.

“So generous Bones,” Jim slurs, “Mr. Sentimental,” and then, thank god, he does the world a favour and passes out cold.

 

* * *

 

When Jim wakes, the first thing he does is clench his hand, fingers tightening.

Leonard would know, because, as it happens, his hand is holding Jim’s.

Jim blinks his eyes blearily open, looking around the first aid room in the lifeguard hut with mild confusion, before settling on Leonard.

His face splits open on a smile.

“Bones,” he says, like the word is coming home.

And yeah, Leonard will take that.

He’ll get by with that.


End file.
